Early Days
by ntc
Summary: A preseries story about Vash's experiences after he shot and ran away from his twin brother. Attempts to explain how Vash acquired some of his bad habits and took his first step to become the greatest gunman on Gunsmoke.
1. Kindness of Strangers

**Disclaimers:** Trigun belongs to Yasuhiro Nightow. I don't own anything related to Trigun except this fic.

**A/N:** This story takes place shortly after the first separation of the Plant twins. There are OCs abound, which is inevitable considering that most of the Trigun cast haven't even been born at this time. Reviews are much appreciated. Thanks for reading.

**Early Days**

**A Trigun Fanfiction by ntc**

_Part 1: Kindness of Strangers_

The egg was perched steadily on the barrel of the well-oiled gun. It had been an exercise he went through every morning for as long as he could remember until it was almost second nature to him. Holstering and drawing that same gun with lightning speed, the egg had barely begun its descent before it was once again balanced neatly on his pistol. The egg didn't even wobble. A small smile curled the corners of his mouth. It felt good to know that he hadn't lost his touch after so many years. The trick to the whole act was concentration. Concentration and...

"ALEX! GET YOUR SCRAWNY ASS DOWN HERE THIS MINUTE!" boomed a thunderous voice through the floorboards underneath.

The egg wobbled, tilted and plunged. With a cry that sounded close to a squeak, the man holding the pistol made a desperate grab for the egg before it could...

Splat.

Slimy ooze was soon soaked up hungrily by the bone-dry floorboards. The matron would flay him alive for this for sure. Why must he use eggs for this exercise anyway? It looked damned impressive, but he had no audience to impress! A pebble or a bullet would have sufficed. Damn him and his love for theatrics. With a speed that had served him well in the past, he quickly hid his wrapped gun under the mattress and scoured his rented room for a rag. The top priority was to get rid of the evidence before she could suspect anything. A stain remained despite his best efforts and he grabbed one of his unwashed shirts from the chair and dumped it on the floor as a cover. That would buy him some time. If he was lucky, the stain would fade a bit as it dried.

Not a moment too soon either. The door to his room banged open and a middle-aged large woman (with more muscle than fat, really) strode into the room bearing a look of utmost displeasure. She would have looked less threatening if it wasn't for the rolling pin she was waving about in one of her meaty hands. With two fingers on her other hand, she jabbed his chest as if she were driving a hot poker into a block of ice. He winced, more from the dread of what was about to happen than from the actual pain. He tried to defuse some of the wrath by flashing the matron his pearly whites.

"Good morning, ma'am." He bowed, letting his loose tawny-fair locks fall over to obscure the look of guilt in his eyes. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your-"

The matron rolled her eyes in poorly concealed vexation. "Oh, enough of that sophisticated crap already. It really doesn't suit you."

The tall man straightened up and ran a hand over his three-day beard stubble. "You're right," he admitted. The rumpled, slept-in shirt he wore also effectively negated whatever effect he was trying to achieve with his gentlemanly mannerisms. "So, tell me why you barged in here like a mad woma-"

The rolling pin connected with the back of his head with practised precision. "And I won't put up with none of your cheek either. You forgot to buy the baking soda yesterday like I told you to, didn't you?"

Rubbing the swelling lump on his occiput, he whimpered, "That really wasn't necessary, ma'am."

"Did you or did you not forget to buy the baking soda?"

"Yes, but that's still no reason to-"

"Then it was necessary." She huffed and crossed her arms over her bosom. "Now go downstairs before your breakfast gets cold. And I expect you to run over to Nelly's store and back here with that baking soda within the hour. We have responsibilities towards our customers after all."

"Yes ma'am," said Alex, his face lighting up in a high-wattage grin at the mention of food.

She glanced around the room and frowned at the pile of clothing she saw on the floor as if it had affronted her personally. "And do try to keep this room in a more tidy state. I wouldn't want to pick up after your messes, you know."

"I wouldn't too, ma'am."

xXxXxXx

Two sacks of 'dough-softeners', as he called them, were held closely to his chest as he trudged back from the store. Old Man Nelly had merely cackled with glee when he, in an attempt to gain some sympathy, shared the tale of his rough treatment under the matron that morning. You'd think that people in general would mellow with age, and would not inflict pain and find amusement in it later.

As he turned into a small alley leading towards the back door of the bakery, he caught sight of someone huddled next to the trash cans. A closer look revealed the huddled figure to be a boy, probably in his late teens, who was wrapped in a dirty ragged blanket. The boy's hair drooped downwards, mirroring the melancholy vibes that radiated off the boy in palpable waves.

He tried to strike up a conversation. "Yo, kiddo."

The boy looked up for a moment and Alex nearly swore. There were several ugly bruises on what would have been an almost handsome face (Not as handsome as his, of course, but still). Dried blood had congealed on the corner of a split lip and there were definitely bloodstains on that brown blanket the boy was using to cover himself. The thugs who were capable of this atrocious act deserved to be stampeded by a herd of tomas. Not acknowledging Alex's greeting, the boy bowed his head to study his own knees.

Alex knew he should leave the matter well enough alone. He didn't want trouble, and anyone who would get beaten up to that degree must be a magnet for trouble of the greatest proportions. But his damned compassion overruled his calculative mind once again. "I won't ask you any awkward questions. Would you like to come in and have those wounds of yours tended?"

He expected another icy silence but the boy surprised him by speaking up. "There's no need for that. I'm alright." The voice sounded young, and held no trace of fear.

"Yeah, right," snorted Alex. "Then how do you explain those bloodstains on you?"

There was a pause before the boy replied hesitantly, "It's not my blood."

Alex eyes grew slightly wider at that, but before he could enquire further, the back door swung open and knocked him on to the ground. One sack of dough-softener landed his head whilst the other went sailing towards the boy. He was about to shout out a warning to the boy about the projectile headed his way when he saw a slim hand shoot out and grab the five-kilo sack in mid-air. The boy's arm was held as steady as a statue, almost as if the weight of the sack did not bother him in the least.

He did not have time to marvel at this for long, for the matron stood in his line of sight and glared down at him. "I heard you back here for a while now. What's taking you so long to get inside?"

Alex wordlessly pointed at the boy behind her. The matron turned around and gasped at what she saw. Maternal instincts took over and she rushed towards the boy. She took the sack from the boy's hand and negligently tossed it towards Alex, who deftly caught it before it could break his nose.

"Young man, who did this to you?" Somehow sensing the boy's reticence, the matron continued without waiting for the answer. "It doesn't matter. Come in. You look like what the Kuro cats had dragged in and I would not allow anyone to go on an empty stomach on my premises."

"It's not necessary..." The boy looked somewhat embarrassed to be the recipient of so much motherly fussing all of a sudden.

"Do you or do you not have an empty stomach?"

"Yeah, but..."

She cut off any impending arguments. "Then it is necessary."

There was a sense of déjà vu to the whole scene and Alex chuckled quietly. He had yet to see anyone successfully defy the matron's wishes. Sure enough, the boy was soon ushered into the bakery. He picked the sacks and was about to follow when a thought occurred to him. He dropped one sack on the ground and held up the other with one fully extended arm. His arm trembled from the strain after a few seconds.

_Interesting._ Either he was very out of shape or the boy was much stronger than he appeared to be. The boy's last statement before their conversation was interrupted echoed in his mind and he tried to suppress a shiver. The matron was too trusting sometimes. And it would be up to him to make sure that her kindness would not be something that she would come to regret later.

xXxXxXx

"Ow.. OwOwOwOw!"

Undaunted, Alex did not cease his wound-cleaning task. "Buck up and take it like a man! I bet you didn't make half as much noise when you were receiving those bruises."

The boy looked at him steadily for a few moments before grimacing from the sting of the antiseptic that was applied to his cheek. "What makes you say that?"

"Well, am I wrong?"

"No." The boy smiled tentatively. "But that was because I knew that doing so would only make my attackers bolder and more vicious. You, on the other hand, had become more and more gentle in your ministrations the more I yelped."

Alex's hand faltered for a moment before it resumed its work in a considerably less gentle manner, causing the yelps to increase in volume. Yelps which he pointedly ignored this time. There was a certain naivety to the boy's speech and demeanour, like that of a twelve-year-old. The boy's physique, however, was nearly that of an adult's. It was a most puzzling combination.

"Just who were these attackers of yours anyway? What did they want?" asked Alex.

The boy tensed and appeared to debate over whether to answer him.

The silence was stretching into awkward proportions. "Look, if it makes you uncomfortable, you don't have to..."

"They were bandits, nothing more." The boy began an intense study of the floorboards. "I gave them all the money, rations and water that I had. I didn't even fight back when they were kicking me around. But when they tried to snatch away... some things that are important to me... I… I didn't know what came over me. I didn't mean to hurt anyone. Not them, and especially not..." The boy gritted his teeth and fell silent.

_Damn._ The boy was on the verge of tears thanks to his inquisitive prying. Alex searched around for a tissue and upon finding none within reach, he offered up his apron instead. A wet, honking blow of the nose into the apron made Alex cringe but he felt that he deserved it. He would just have to wash the apron thoroughly later.

"There. It's done," said Alex as he slapped on a final plaster on the boy's face. Seeing the distress he had caused the youngster, he refrained from asking any more questions. At least the boy was able to defend himself in the end. Having heard more than enough sickening tales of what some of the bandits around the area were capable of, Alex was relieved that the boy had not received anything more than superficial wounds.

The boy examined himself in the mirror and grimaced. He turned towards Alex and nodded in a grateful gesture. "Thank you. You and Mrs. Thompson have been most kind." Without another word, the boy retrieved his backpack and trod towards the exit.

Blowing out a gust of wind, Alex made his decision. "Hey, kiddo. Where do you think you're going?"

The boy cast a questioning glance over his shoulder.

Alex smirked unabashedly. "You haven't tasted my world-famous doughnuts yet. They'll be ready in an hour. I still need to knead the dough and fry them first."

"Doughnuts?"

"They're sugar-coated pastries with a hole at the centre. Don't tell me you haven't eaten them before."

"I haven't."

Alex's lower jaw sagged until it almost reached the floor. Yup, he was definitely a sucker for theatrics. "You don't know what you're missing! Stay right here and don't you move until those doughnuts are ready. They're addictive, I tell you! You wouldn't be able to stop after eating just one."

The boy's eyebrows furrowed as he pondered over this information. "But isn't addiction a bad thing?"

"There's bad addiction, and there's good addiction," declared Alex while bobbing his head for emphasis. "Bad addiction is something like... um... smoking cigarettes. You get yellowed teeth, bad breath and not to mention tarry lungs from it. As for good addiction, it makes you feel good, but in a less destructive way. For example, beer- which you really should try one day, mind you- pours down your throat like the sweetest of... Ow!" Alex didn't even notice the matron looming behind him with her ever-present rolling pin.

"I would not standby and watch you corrupt this young man further with your undesirable habits!" she proclaimed, a crusader of good morals and behaviour.

"There's no harm in learning to live a little, ma'am," protested Alex weakly. "I was just offering him the chance to try out some of my doughnuts."

"Oh? I distinctly heard you say something about cigarettes and beer." Pivoting on a heel, she turned her back on him and directed her attention at the boy. "And you, young man, were about to leave without saying goodbye to me. That's just plain bad manners."

Guilt and panic skittered across the boy's face. "I... I'm sorry, Mrs. Thompson. I just thought I should leave before... before..."

"I'll have none of your excuses. As punishment, you are to remain here for the rest of the day. Now go wash yourself in the bathroom upstairs and get changed into something that isn't coated with five layers of sand. I've left a couple of shirts and pants for you by the sink. You're about my son's size, so there shouldn't be any problems."

"But..." The boy's objections didn't get much further than the occasional 'but' as he was shooed up the stairs. The matron even made sure that the water was running before she came back down to the kitchen.

Alex could not help but grin fondly at her. "Ma'am, I'd kiss you if I wouldn't get walloped for it."

The matron mock-scowled at him. "Don't you dare. It's bad enough that you flirt with anything in a skirt that steps into this place."

"Do I sense jealousy, ma'am?"

"Just get back to work, Alex. Don't make me hit you a third time."

xXxXxXx

At the outskirts of the small town of Carcasses, a group of hulking figures were gathered within a ring of parked jeeps. All of them carried an air of deadly purpose. One of the scouts who were sent out earlier had returned and was reporting excitedly. "There's no mistake! The tracks lead towards the town. The runt must be hiding there somewhere."

Among the group were four heavily bandaged men who looked especially pleased upon hearing the news, their mouths twisting in malicious anticipation. An animated discussion soon broke out about what they would do once they got their hands on the kid who was responsible for their injured bodies and pride.

_Useless cowards, the lot of them. Expecting the rest of the gang to wipe their asses clean after the mess they had made._ They didn't even have the guts to seek vengeance on their own. However, the reputation of the Dalton Gang was at stake, and there was no choice but to give another live demonstration of the horrible consequences of going against them. The leader of the bandits tried not to let the disgust he was feeling show on his face. "Are there any law enforcers in the town?"

"Nope, the population is too small to warrant the need for a sheriff."

That certainly made things easier. Not much had changed since they had last paid a visit to the town five years ago. "Ethan." The bandit leader addressed his second-in-command. "I want you to choose fifteen men and remain with the jeeps. Include those who are injured in your group. Then I want you to surround the town and make sure our quarry doesn't escape. The rest of you get ready and follow me."

xXxXxXx

Alex watched in fascination as the boy gulped down one doughtnut after another, not showing any signs of slowing down despite having had six of them already. Had he created a monster? The boy was fast becoming an even greater doughtnut-addict than him right before his very eyes. However, anything that could bring a cheerful smile to that bruised face was worth it.

"Hey, kiddo. You still haven't told me your name."

The boy paused to lick the powdered sugar off his lips before replying. "I'm Vash. Vash Saverem."

_(To be continued)_

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**A/N:** So as to clear up any confusion, the Alex in this story is an OC. I'm well aware that the name 'Alex' was Vash's alias at one point in time, and also the name of Rem's significant other. However, 'Alex' is such a common name that it's highly likely that some other human shared that same name too. Besides, I wanted to confuse you readers on purpose, that's why the name was chosen :D As for whether the Mrs. Thompson in this story is an ancestress or distant relative of our angelic insurance girl Milly Thompson, I'll leave that for you readers to decide.

I'm now working on the second part of the story and hopefully I'll be able to put it up in a week or two. Till next time then.


	2. Showdown

**Disclaimers:** Trigun belongs to Yasuhiro Nightow. I don't own anything related to Trigun except this fic.

**Early Days**

**A Trigun Fanfiction by ntc**

_Part 2: Showdown_

Vash immediately sensed that something was wrong when his acute hearing picked up the sounds of several vehicles heading towards the town. It was not uncommon to have the occasional car or motorcycle drive into town, as the town relied on these stopovers by passing travelers to keep its businesses afloat. However, it was uncommon to have five… no… six of them coming here simultaneously. He also recognized the sound of those engines. It was the same sound that had blared loudly behind him while he was being chased down by bandits a few days ago.

Once again, trouble had managed to find him. He hands curled into fists. If he continued to run, there would be no end to the torment, and innocent people would be the ones dragged down by his lack of courage. It was time he stopped running. His gaze fell on his duffel bag. The two items inside it were the source of his problems. If he had allowed the bandits to take them, those bandits wouldn't be coming after him now. But he knew he couldn't just hand those items over, not when it had already cost him so much to gain possession of them.

"What's wrong, kiddo? You just spaced out a while there." Alex was looking at him with concern.

Vash got up quickly from his seat. "Thanks for the doughnuts. I have to go now. Can you tell Mrs. Thompson…"

"She told you to stay here the whole day, didn't she? I believe that meant sleeping over for the night. You look like you could use the rest."

"Tell her…" Vash tried to keep his anxiety from leaking into his voice. Every second spent here was a second that he didn't have to spare. He had to get out of this place before they caught up with him. He was the target, so it was likely that they would leave the rest of the town alone. "Tell her I'm grateful but…"

A voice with a no-nonsense tone rang out from the kitchen. "But what?"

Vash was soon confronted by the lady who had shown him nothing but kindness since they met. Another reason why he had to high-tail out of there as quickly as his legs could carry him. It was bad enough having people he didn't know getting hurt. If it were people he knew, it would break his heart; and his heart had been battered enough already. "But I really must leave now! I'll repay you one day when I can, I promise."

"Young man, if you think I took you in because I expect repayment…"

Vash didn't wait for her to finish. He grabbed his duffel bag and dashed for the door. His fingertips nearly brushed against the handle when he felt a strong arm encircle his waist and drag him away from the door. Staring at the man who had hampered his escape, Vash almost shouted in frustration. "I don't have time for this! Let-" His subsequent words died on his tongue when he saw Alex's serious expression.

Alex placed a finger to his lips, indicating the need for silence. A round of machine-gun fire was let loose outside and panicked screams from women and children could be heard. There were chaotic sounds of banging doors, breaking glass and overturning tables coming from the buildings some distance away.

It was not hard to guess what was happening. Before Vash could break free and head outside again, Alex propelled him towards Mrs. Thompson. "You two get down below and hide in the cellar."

"What…" Vash was suddenly very afraid of what Alex was planning. The man had the appearance of someone who had made a tough decision about something and was determined to carry it out.

"You're not in the position to order me around, Alex," said Mrs. Thompson quietly. She held Vash closer to herself. "This wouldn't be the first time that I face those people. I didn't hide five years ago, and I wouldn't start hiding now."

"You stubborn mule of a woman!" Alex didn't waste time arguing and, instead, concentrated on pushing both of them up the staircase. "At least try to stay out of sight until this whole mess blows over."

"I can stop this," said Vash. "Those men are after me. Just let me go outside-" The rest of what he was about to say was lost when Mrs. Thompson's arm reflexively tightened around him, squeezing the breath out of his lungs.

"They'll have to pry you out of my cold, dead hands, young man."

Vash could feel his eyes stinging with imminent tears but he resolutely held them back. It was overwhelming to experience humanity's worst and best in a span of a mere few days.

They entered a bedroom- apparently Alex's, judging from the clothing strewn all over the place. After signaling to them to stay in a corner, Alex went to the window and peered out furtively. What he saw made him curse. "Damn."

Mrs. Thompson released Vash from her hug and walked towards the bed, where she proceeded to lift the mattress up and pick up a bundle that was hidden under it. Alex tore his gaze away from the window and was startled to have the bundle pressed into his hands. Regaining his composure quickly, he choked out, "How…"

"Housecleaning. Besides, you always were a lousy actor, Alex. You could pretend to be a baker's apprentice, but I know the smell of gun smoke too well for you to fool me." Her voice softened into a whisper. "You can stop pretending now."

Alex's grip on the bundle tightened and he silently nodded. The man then moved to retrieve the stash of ammunition he had kept locked in one of the drawers.

Vash watched all this from a distance and had forgotten that he could have used the opportunity to escape. As Alex walked past him, Vash reached out and held onto his arm. "You can't fight them off on your own. There are too many of them."

There was a devious glint in Alex's eyes, and Vash involuntarily backed a step. "You're right," said Alex. "That's why you're going to help me."

Mrs. Thompson opened her mouth to protest but was interrupted.

"Ma'am, I won't let history repeat itself. I will keep the boy safe."

xXxXxXx

The bandit leader, Slade Dalton, surveyed the crowd of terrified townspeople that his men had managed to gather at the town square. More were being added to the crowd by the minute. The few men of the town who had attempted to put up some resistance were brutally beaten up, and everything had been smooth-sailing from then on. Most of them did not even wait to be routed out of their homes and came obediently to cower in fear in the middle of the town. It would be so easy to loot all the houses and business establishments. However, there's time for that later- after their real objective had been achieved.

"Has anyone of you seen a blonde youth in this town? He wears a red bodysuit and carries a grey duffel bag."

There was a brief murmur among the townspeople and one scruffy man spoke up in a high-pitched fearful voice. "I… I remember walking past some strange kid this morning while I was running errands for my boss. The kid has blonde hair that sorta spikes up, right?"

"That sounds like the one we're after. Where did you last see this kid?"

"I think I saw him walking into one of the alleys near the bakery," said the man, licking his lips nervously. "Though I might be wrong… I mean, I can't be sure or anything. I wasn't really looking, you know what I mean? I…"

The spineless man was babbling and Slade shot a round into the ground to stem the tide of useless information. The man flinched and shut up immediately. "The bakery, eh?" It seemed that Fate had a peculiar sense of humour. The last time he was here, he had a bone to pick with the baker's son who had dared to capture two of his men and hand them over to the sheriff in one of the nearby cities. The fool thought he could freelance as a bounty hunter. It had taken four days for him to die. "Is the bakery still at the same place?"

xXxXxXx

Vash spluttered. "You're insane! "

"If you can think of a better way, let us hear it," said Alex.

"I can always give myself up! Or run away and let them come after me; draw their fire and all…"

"How many times do we have to tell you that that's one option which we would never consider! I'm done talking to you." Alex turned towards the matron. "Ma'am? I know I'm asking for a lot, and you'll be the one having to foot the bill at the end."

The matron's eyes misted over and, for a moment, looked as if she might object. But she gave her permission in the end. "The Dalton Gang's one hundred thousand double dollar bounty is more than enough to pay for the damages."

xXxXxXx

"Backdoor is secured, boss. No one will be getting past Eugene and the others."

A slight tilt of the head indicated that he had heard. Slade took a deep breath and bellowed, "Woman! If the boy is in there, it is best to give him up! Don't make it difficult for both of us!"

There was no response from the bakery. "Stubborn old hag," muttered Slade under his breath. That indomitable woman clearly hadn't learnt her lesson.

He was about give the signal to storm the building when the front door swung open and a man, who looked to be in his thirties, emerged. In his hand was a cord of rope which he used to drag a trussed up teenager across the ground behind him. The man practically oozed sycophantic eagerness. "I've got the boy you want right here!" He nudged the boy in the ribs with his foot, who hissed in pain. "It took me a while to subdue that foolish woman and bring this prize out. You… you will spare my life now, right?"

Slade smiled. When it came to saving their own hides, humans could betray even their own kin. What more a total stranger? The only person he knew who would go out on a limb for someone else was the baker- the stubborn old hag. "Of course." This man showed promise, to be able to overcome the kid who had supposedly trounced four of his men alone. Perhaps he could be persuaded to join his gang later. "Hand over the kid and I promise that my men won't harm you."

The man placed a boot on the boy's chest, pinning the boy to the ground. "Just curious. What did this brat do to piss you off so badly?"

"That's none of your business," growled Slade.

"Uh, heh-heh. You're right. It really isn't any of my business." The man hastily pulled the boy up by the collar and grinned. The grin abruptly vanished when the boy chomped down on his fingers. With a squeal that sounded like a pig about to be slaughtered, the man dropped the boy and flapped his bitten hand like a madman. There was a ripping noise and the boy was soon free of the ropes that had bound him. The boy spun and it was obvious that he was about to run back into the bakery.

_We'll see about that._ "Open-"

"Aiieeee! Don't shoot! Don't shoot! You'll hit me by accident!" shrieked the fool who was waving his arms about, effectively blocking any clean shots they might have on the boy's back.

Slade resisted the temptation to order his men to open fire and hit the fool on purpose. He snarled, "Then get out of our way, you idiot!" He motioned his men forward. "Five of you go in there through the front door. Get Eugene and his men to burst in through the back door at the same time. Move!"

The man, whom Slade was having less and less respect for, stumbled away from the porch and shambled to his side timidly. "Great and kind sir, er… you saw how it wasn't my fault, right? So you have no reason to kill me, right?"

Slade silenced him with a murderous glare. He turned his attention back on his men who were getting ready for the attack. Two doors were kicked open at the same time and Slade watched as they rushed into the bakery. Seconds passed in tense silence, which was broken when a few of his men started firing their guns. Slade hoped they weren't dumb enough to stand in the line of fire of each other, seeing how crowded the bakery would be by now with ten of his men inside.

Then the bakery exploded.

A hail of shattered glass and splintered wood rained down on him and the rest of his men who were waiting with him outside. Bodies were flung to the ground. Flames and smoke billowed out of the openings that used to be windows and doors. The entire structure of the building creaked ominously, and the upper storey looked as if it was about to topple and crush everything on the ground floor.

With his ears ringing from the deafening explosion, it took a moment for Slade to realize that shots were being fired behind him. One by one, the five men who were with him were downed by accurate shots that shattered their trigger fingers and sent their weapons flying out of their grasps. Before he could react, he felt the pressure of a hot metallic gun barrel against the back of his head.

"Hold your hands up and don't move." It was the fool's voice, no longer sounding like a fool. "I still have one bullet left."

Slade mentally berated himself for being tricked so easily. He should have suspected that something was amiss when the boy had managed to shed the ropes so quickly. The man holding him at gunpoint felt around for his holster and relieved him of his pistol. "How did the explosion happen?" asked Slade. "There couldn't be any gun powder or explosives in that bakery. The old hag hates anyone and anything to do with guns."

The barrel of the gun was pressed even more deeply into his scalp, making Slade wince from the burning heat. "Call her that again and I'll splatter your brains on the sands right now. And in answer to your question, that's none of your business."

"Touché." Slade allowed his thoughts to drift back to the dangerous situation before him. "At least allow me to send my men in and get the injured out of that building before it collapses."

"I don't care about your men."

"What about the boy and the old… woman?"

"They're hiding somewhere safe, not to worry. My plan, unlike yours, is flawle… Damn!"

Slade saw what had caused the angry curse. The baker, her face covered with soot, had two of his men draped across her shoulders as she trudged out of the burning building. Following closely behind her was the boy, towing another unconscious form.

While Slade was considering using this distraction to turn on his captor, he felt his legs being kicked out from under him and he ended up sprawling onto the ground. A boot was planted firmly on the small of his back. The man was taking no chances with him.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TWO DOING!" roared the incensed man. The boot holding Slade in place was quivering with emotion.

Neither the woman nor the boy bothered to answer, and Slade could see both of them dashing back into the burning building after depositing his unconscious men a safe distance away from the bakery. The building made more ominous creaking noises.

After more cussing and swearing, the man shouted, "Don't just stand there!" Slade assumed that he was speaking to the bandits around who were still conscious. "Go and help them! You lot might not be able to fire a gun for a month, but you can still drag your comrades out! Get moving! If you're not inside that building in ten seconds, I'll start firing!"

The rescue operation was soon under way and Slade sighed in relief when all his men, together with the baker and the boy, successfully escaped the fiery hell. The roof of the building collapsed not long afterwards. It was a close call. "Thank you," he said softly.

"Oh, shut your trap" was the annoyed reply. "You lose. I win. So can we put an end to this show right now?"

Slade chuckled. "Do you think you have won?" The air was suddenly filled with the sounds of approaching jeeps. Slade still had sixteen armed men under his command- the ones who had stayed with the jeeps. Slade frowned. They sure took their time to arrive here. Why hadn't they come the moment the explosion occurred?

Slade was lifted up from his prone position and a gun was soon pressed against his back. "Of course I think I have won. I'm not the one with a gun to his spine."

The pair soon found themselves surrounded by six jeeps. Slade saw his brother and second-in-command, Ethan, giving the signal for the men to train their weapons on him and his captor.

Ethan sucked lazily on a cigarette. "What a pickle you got yourself into this time, brother."

Slade narrowed his eyes at his brother's mocking tone. "Took you long enough to come here," he snapped. "Why…" He was cut off by a meaningful poke in his back.

"Tell your men to put down their guns now. That way, nobody has to get hurt."

Slade thought of getting his brother to hold the boy and the baker hostage in exchange for his own release, but he couldn't quite bring himself to do it. He owed those two the lives of at least ten of his men. But it galled him to force the surrender of his whole gang just to save his own skin, so that option was out too. His thoughts were interrupted by Ethan's chilling laughter.

"You know the rules, brother; so don't hate me for it. The gang should always take precedence over the individual." Slade felt his stomach twist in dread. "Someone who is weak enough to be taken hostage doesn't deserve to be the leader of the Dalton Gang."

Slade knew what was about to happen but was powerless to do anything about it. He was soon sprayed crimson and flung backwards by the volley of bullets tearing through his body, crashing into the man behind him.

xXxXxXx

Vash was frozen in shock when he saw Alex collapsing under the bandit leader's bullet-riddled body. It appalled him that anyone could be so ruthless as to kill a comrade in order to bring down an enemy. Tears blurred his vision. His fingers twitched stealthily towards his duffel bag.

Mrs. Thompson, however, was not concerned about such things as bringing attention to herself. "You scumbags!" She then made her way towards the spot where Alex and the bandit leader had fallen, with a total disregard for the armed men who were in her path. Vash cried out for her to stop but his plea fell on deaf ears.

A few of the men stepped out of her way without thinking, but one man, who was less intimidated than the others, planted himself squarely in her path. When she tried to sidestep him, he brought a fist up and smashed it against her temple.

Then several things happened all at once.

Vash pulling out the silver Colt from his duffel bag and standing up from his crouched position; Mrs. Thompson tottering and about to fall; and a blood-coated figure raising behind the distracted bandits like a vengeful angel of death. Before Mrs. Thompson's body even hit the ground, rapid gunshots- so rapid that it sounded like one continuous shot- cracked the air like a whip. The blood-splattered bodies of a dozen bandits soon joined her, crumpling into moaning heaps on the ground. The remaining bandits who were spared the bullet- the four bandaged ones still sitting in the jeeps- were too petrified to do anything other than gibber.

Vash almost could not recognize the person whom he had known as Alex. The man's eyes were gleaming with deadly intent. Demonic. Emotionless. Alex's shirt was drenched in so much blood that it looked as if he was wearing maroon. He walked towards the bandit who had lead the new group that had arrived at the scene. The bandit was kneeling, a hand pressing against a bleeding wound in his stomach. Alex, in cold deliberateness, kicked him in the chin until he toppled and landed flat on his back. He proceeded to reload his pistols slowly, towering over the trembling man at his feet. Vash discovered that he was trembling too.

"Alex…" It was Mrs. Thompson's voice, calm and soothing. "Alex, stop this now. You don't have to do this."

Alex did not seem to have heard her. His gleaming eyes were still focused on the bandit. "I could have lodged a bullet in your skull just now, but I didn't. Do you want to know why?"

"Please… don't kill me…" begged the bandit, crazed by fear. "I'll give you anything you… Gah!"

Another bullet was discharged into one of the bandit's shoulders, followed by another into a thigh. A booted heel came down on the wounded shoulder and started grinding. The bandit screamed until he couldn't find the energy to do so anymore, ultimately reduced to hoarse whimpers. Vash felt bile rising up to his throat. This was torture.

Just when Vash thought it was over, Alex once more pointed the muzzle of his gun at the bandit. This time he was aiming for the head. "Though you don't deserve it, I will be generous and grant you a swift death."

Unable to keep still any longer, Vash hurled his Colt in Alex's direction. The massive pistol knocked against Alex's wrist, skewing the man's aim so that the shot was fired into the ground next to the bandit's head instead. Alex turned to face him, his face a mask of fury. But the fury died down when he saw Mrs. Thompson standing beside him, reaching out and placing her hand over his- the bloody one that was gripping the pistol.

"You don't have to do this," she repeated. "It's not worth it. Not if it costs you your humanity."

Vash held his breath as he watched Alex struggle to regain his old self within the peaceful aura of the baker. He only let it out again when Alex fell into Mrs. Thompson's arms, unconscious.

_(To be concluded)_

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**A/N: **Eep. That last scene turned out to be more violent than I intended. Blame my muse. The final chapter is in the works, so expect it to be out next week. Please review and let me know what you think of the story so far.

Oh, and just in case any of you are wondering, the explosion was caused by flour. A spark in an enclosed space full of suspended tiny flour particles can set off an explosion of sorts. Perhaps not as spectacular as the one described in this chapter, but let us assume that other flammable fuel had been used to feed the flames. If anyone wants to point out the flaw in my understanding of physics, feel free to do so.

**Responses to Reviewers of previous chapter:**

_ReadingWhiz89:_ I'm glad that you liked the OCs in the fic. Yes, Alex's personality is modelled on the goofy, womanizing, happy-go-lucky adult Vash's. I find that Vash was more serious when he was young (especially after he had been so traumatized by Knives), and it got me speculating how he later turned out the way he did. A role model of sorts was called for, and the character Alex is thus created. Thanks for telling me that the egg and gun trick was from the anime. I've read it in a couple of fanfics, but I wasn't sure whether it was canon or fanon.

_millyfan_: I hope chapter two hasn't disappointed you. Thanks for reviewing.

_Lady Shadowcat_: Heh heh... I'm happy to hear that I've managed to trick you into thinking that Alex was Vash. That was my intention :D You thought the boy was Legato? -Recalls the mention of bloodstains and big appetite- Ah yes, I can see why you might have guessed that. Though I have to say, that idea sounds quite interesting. I wonder how a young Legato would have turned out if it was Vash who rescued him instead of Knives?


	3. Farewells and a New Beginning

**Disclaimers:** Trigun belongs to Yasuhiro Nightow. I don't own anything related to Trigun except this fic.

**Early Days**

**A Trigun Fanfiction by ntc**

_Part 3: Farewells and a New Beginning_

It was the same dream that had plagued him many nights, especially years ago when he had yet to complete his revenge. Always, in his dream, he came back home to find his family gruesomely murdered. His son was just three years old. His wife… it was pure agony to think about what she had gone through before her life was snuffed out. Initially, he screamed when he got those dreams. Eventually, he learnt to stop screaming.

He had then dedicated the next few years of his life to avenging their deaths. No training had been too hard; no sacrifice too great. The murderers had been blatant about their crimes, leaving behind their 'signature' on the walls. They did not fear the law, and the law even protected them instead of bringing them closer to justice. That was when he lost faith and became an outlaw himself. It was a small price to pay for the peace it would grant the spirits of his dead wife and son. Or so he thought. That was how he had justified his actions, after all. But the whole experience had changed him, and he could no longer return to the life he once knew. He thought he could start anew; and for the past two years, he was almost convinced.

The illusion was shattered with the coming of a spiky-haired manchild with aquamarine eyes.

xXxXxXx

A voice called in the darkness. "He's waking up, Mrs. Thompson!"

Alex slowly opened his eyes and the first sight that greeted him was that of the matron's worried face. Seeing that he would be alright, she smiled. It was the same smile that had made him decide to take up baking two years ago. "Hi, ma'am," he croaked, not knowing what else to say.

She tenderly brushed the locks from his brow with one hand. "Get up, lazy bones. You've been asleep for two days. Those doughnuts aren't going to materialize out of thin air, you know."

"But wasn't the bakery razed to the ground?" he asked. He could still clearly remember the events of that day. It might have been better if he had forgotten it all, but his memory had the tendency to not let him down.

"Yes." Her voice turned soft. "Yes, it was."

They stayed in that comfortable silence for a while, neither wanting to be the one to break it. Alex didn't even know that the boy Vash had been inside the room until he heard the door close. The boy must have left to grant them their moment of privacy.

Best to stick to safe topics. "So what happened to the bandits? Those who are still alive?" he asked.

"Nelly and a group of able-bodied young men in the town had volunteered to escort them to the sheriff and get that bounty. They should be back here this evening."

The next question was more difficult to ask. "And was… the man… the one I was trying to… in the end…. was he…?"

The matron shook her head. "He's alive. He might have nightmares for a while, but he'll live."

Alex closed his eyes. He didn't even know that this incident was weighing on his soul until he felt the heaviness on his chest being lifted by the news. "I'm sorry, ma'am. I never wanted you to witness something like that."

"I know."

"And I've been deceiving you all these years, when you've been nothing but honest and frank with me."

"I know."

"And I'm one of those gunmen whom you hate so much. Ever since your son died in the hands of..."

"I know."

"Damn it, woman!" Alex was feeling irrational anger over the matron's calm acceptance of every transgression he had committed. "Why aren't you mad at me? How can you sit there and take all this without even batting an eyelid?"

A hand strayed to Alex's cheek and he yelped when he felt the pinch and tug. It was very much in the manner of a mother punishing a wayward child. "Cuss one more time and I'll wash your mouth out with soap," she threatened.

"Yes, ma'am." She released his cheek and he rubbed it vigorously in his comical exaggerated way.

The matron watched his antics and chortled. "I miss this side of you, Alex." She sighed, looking thoughtful. "I miss the baker's apprentice- the one who often forgets to buy the necessary ingredients; the one who burns his bread sometimes; the one who has way too high an opinion of the doughnuts he makes."

"Hey! My doughnuts are world-famous and don't you deny it," declared Alex huffily.

"Well, and it's all thanks to me, isn't it?" she retorted. "When you first started, you couldn't even turn the stove on without burning your fingers."

"You got me there, ma'am," said Alex. "And I do miss those days too." A moment of silence passed. "But now we both know that the baker's apprentice was a lie."

The matron stood up and walked towards the door. "I'll go fetch some broth and bread for you. I bet you're hungry."

Alex could tell that she was trying to avoid the issue. "Ma'am?"

She stopped with her hand on the door handle and reluctantly turned to look back at him.

"Thank you. The past two years had been nice."

The matron wordlessly nodded and walked out.

xXxXxXx

It took him another two days to recuperate sufficiently to walk out to the porch. He had found out that the house he had been staying in for the past few days belonged to Old Man Nelly.

He was sitting on the front steps when the owner of the house approached him. Alex knew that important matters were to be discussed from the old man's expression.

"Did you successfully get the bounty?" asked Alex, making an attempt at small talk.

"Yes," replied the old man. "A hundred thousand double dollars would go a long way to restore the damages that had been done to the town by those bandits. We've already hired workers to rebuild Mrs. Thompson's bakery."

"I'm glad to hear it," said Alex sincerely.

Old Man Nelly cleared his throat. "In the city… I saw posters of other wanted outlaws with even larger bounties on their heads. A million double dollars were offered for the capture of a man known as 'The Avenger'."

Alex studied the old man's face carefully and decided that there was no use pretending any longer. "Has it gone up so high already? It used to be only five hundred thousand."

"Alex," said Old Man Nelly, sounding sad, even pained. "It's not that we aren't grateful to you for saving the town from the Dalton Gang. We would let you stay here if we could. Lord knows we badly need a sheriff around these parts, but…"

"Ah, there's no need to fret. I fully intend to leave here as soon as these wounds stop bugging me. Just… just give me a few more days, alright?"

Old Man Nelly grunted. "If you don't mind me asking- what did you do to get such a huge bounty on your head, boy?"

"Some people I had to kill happen to come from very rich families."

Old Man Nelly started to look uncomfortable. "Have you ever regretted what you did?"

He could lie of course, but he was sick of lying already. "Never."

The old man turned his face away, as if he couldn't bear the sight of him, and got up to leave. "Make sure you're out of this town by next week."

Alex heard footfalls heading back to the house, the door opening and closing. Another set of footfalls approached him from the right. He looked up and saw Vash standing a couple of feet away from him. The boy shuffled his feet nervously. "Hi."

"Hi, kiddo," Alex greeted, forcing his lips to form a smile. Some part of him was still blaming the kid for the loss of his peaceful life in Carcasses, but the more rational part of his mind reminded him that he was the one who made the decision to help the kid out. If anyone was to be blamed, it was himself.

"I'm sorry… I couldn't help overhearing the conversation just now. I really didn't mean to eavesdrop."

Alex shrugged. "It doesn't matter."

The boy twiddled his thumbs. "What do you plan to do when you leave? Where are you going?"

"Nowhere in particular." Outlaws were more often wanderers than not. You could only stay at one place so long before the bounty hunters catch a whiff of your whereabouts and come after you.

"Can you…?" The boy apparently lost his courage to complete his question.

Alex tried not to let it show how it hurt to have people- people whom he thought he was close to- fear him the moment they found out about his past. "Just ask what you've come here to ask, kiddo."

"Can you teach me how to shoot like you?"

It was certainly the last thing he thought Vash would say. Recovering from his surprise, he asked, "Why do you want to learn to shoot?"

"Um… When I saw you fight off those bandits alone a few days ago…"

"If you're learning to shoot just so you can kill more effectively, find another teacher," said Alex. '_You are such a hypocrite'_, chided a tiny voice in his mind but he ignored it.

"No!" shouted the boy. "I'm against killing! I absolutely abhor it! No one has the right to take the life of another!"

Alex was taken aback by the impassioned outburst. "Then what can possibly be your reason for learning to shoot? A gun is a killing weapon for goodness' sake!"

"That incident a few days ago made me realize one thing. If I want to be good at taking lives, I have to be a good marksman. If I want to be good at saving lives, I have to be better than merely 'good'. I would have to be the best there is." Vash looked determinedly into his eyes. "And I want you to teach me because the shots you fired weren't aimed to kill; only to incapacitate or disarm. Except… except what nearly happened at the end."

"He wouldn't be the first." Alex saw how his reply caused Vash to flinch. _Such an innocent._ "I've killed before without any regrets. I don't want you to harbour the impression that I'm some kind of saint. Far from it, my young friend."

"The past doesn't matter, does it?" The boy said it as if he was trying to convince himself. "I still wish to learn from you."

Alex scratched the back of his head. As tempting as it was to leave behind a legacy… Alex recalled how steady the boy's arms were. Vash certainly had the makings of a good marksman. Given the proper training, Alex had no doubts that the boy would surpass him one day. "No," he finally said.

Crestfallen, the boy asked, "But why?"

"Because it would be merely a waste of my time and yours."

"What do you mean?"

Alex stood up and dusted off the back of his jeans. "I don't think you have the guts to pull the trigger, kiddo." He secretly wished that Vash would remain this way and avoid getting his hands stained by blood and death. He was beyond redemption, but it was not too late for Vash.

"I do! And I… I had!" said Vash, grimacing as he made that last admission.

"Well, I'm not convinced," said Alex, deciding not to ask the boy about the circumstances that had driven him to shoot for the first time. "When you wanted to prevent me from killing that bandit, why didn't you fire your gun? Instead of shooting, you lobbed your entire gun at me like a projectile."

"I didn't want to risk injuring you by shooting. My aim isn't that good. That's why I want you to teach me!"

It sounded like a plausible reason, but… "Prove it to me then."

"Prove?" asked Vash apprehensively.

"Fire your gun at me and I'll consider training you."

"But that's… that's dangerous!" cried Vash, appalled by the idea.

"Look, kiddo," said Alex. "A gunman has to be prepared to receive what he dishes out to others. I've been shot at more times than I could count, so I'm used to it. What I want to find out is whether you'll get used to the idea of shooting at another person, knowing that you could kill that person if your aim is just slightly off."

"I…" The boy's internal struggle was almost painful to watch. "I can't do it, Alex. Don't make me do it. Just give me another test."

Alex turned his back on the boy and walked back to the entrance of the house. "Then this discussion is over."

xXxXxXx

The children in the town were sorry to see him go. He had grown close to the children after spending most of his evenings wrestling with them and losing to them all the time (They always fought unfairly, relying on overwhelming numbers to twist him into a pretzel). They also loved him for the sweet cakes and pastries he would sneak from the bakery and distribute around. The matron had been fully aware of it, though it took him some time to find out that she knew.

With a heavy heart, he bade farewell to the children, calling each child by name and eliciting promises from them that they would look after themselves and their families. As parting gifts, he gave each of them a bag of doughnuts he had personally made. They admitted that they had never liked his doughnuts, but they would eat every single one of his doughnuts this time because they liked him. '_Little brats'_, thought Alex affectionately whilst mussing their hair as payback for their unkind remark about his cooking skills. They squealed and scampered away, into the arms of their anxious parents who were standing nearby.

Sensing the less warm and friendly vibes from the adults, Alex knew that it was time to leave. He waved a final goodbye to the children and walked down the road that would lead him away from the town. He carried a backpack that contained a few pieces of clothing, some provisions, his gun and two boxes of bullets. Aside from the gun and bullets, all his other belongings had been destroyed in the fire together with the bakery. The matron had been the one who paid for most of the things he now carried with him. She had also forced two thousand double dollars on him to cover his traveling expenses, claiming that they were leftovers from the bounty that was rightfully his. Alex owed the woman more than he could ever repay in his lifetime.

Speaking of the devil (or, in this case, the angel), the matron was waiting for him near the arch that marked the main entrance of the town. She greeted him with a sad smile. Alex had been avoiding her as much as he could for the past few days, as he knew that not doing so would only make it more difficult for him to leave. He stopped a few feet away from her.

"Farewell, ma'am," said Alex, his voice thick. "I would miss you."

"You don't have to leave if you don't want to," she insisted. "I've already upbraided Nelly for his rude behaviour, so he shouldn't be troubling you anymore. I can make him apologize to you if you want."

Alex found himself feeling pity for Old Man Nelly. No one in the town would want to get on the wrong side of the matron if they could help it. "That won't be necessary, ma'am. It is high time that I leave anyway. The town will be more… peaceful… without me around."

The matron sighed. "They're only scared, Alex; and scared people can do such stupid and cruel things sometimes."

Alex studied the sand between his feet, avoiding the matron's eyes. "Can I ask you for a favour, ma'am?"

"Yes?"

"I'd like you to take that Saverem kid under your wing when I'm gone. You could use a new apprentice after they've rebuilt the bakery."

"If I could, I would," she said.

Alex looked up, puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"That young man left early this morning. He said goodbye to me this time. At least his manners have improved."

"Did he say where he's going?" Alex felt a pang of regret for having driven the boy away from him. It was also quite upsetting that the boy had left without even saying goodbye to him.

"No. But he assured me that he could take care of himself."

Alex was surprised that she had let Vash leave so easily. He half-expected her to sit on the boy to stop him from leaving. While he was thinking about this, the matron closed the distance between them and crushed him in a bear hug. "I'm not so sure about you though. Do I have your promise that you'll look after yourself out there? Remember to eat your three meals every day. Keep away from the booze and refrain yourself from shameless skirt-chasing."

"Ma'am!" he cried, flushing in embarrassment.

She patted his back and released him. Her face was crinkled up in laughter. "I guess I'll just have to trust you. Don't disappoint me."

Alex pouted. "You sound… just like the mother I never had."

A tear rolled down the matron's cheek, but she was still smiling. "Stay safe, Alex, and godspeed. You're welcome at my home any time."

xXxXxXx

Alex was aware that someone was following him for the past two hours. Every time he turned around, a humanoid figure would scuttle behind a sand dune and remain quiet. Whoever was following him maintained enough distance between them such that he couldn't clearly see his stalker's face. But Alex didn't need to see the face in order to identify his stalker.

"You can come out now, Vash. I know it's you."

There was a surprised gasp. Did the boy really think that his presence had gone unnoticed? Though to be fair, it was quite impossible to follow someone in the middle of a desert without being detected.

Alex watched Vash creep out of hiding and come to stand facing him about fifteen feet away. Much as he hated to admit it, he was feeling a bit lonely and was grateful for the boy's company. He missed the companionship he had enjoyed while living in Carcasses. Alex raised an eyebrow when he caught a glimpse of the metallic glint of the Colt held in the boy's right hand. "What are you planning, kiddo?"

"I've had days to think about it and I'm sorry to say that I still wish to be your pupil," said Vash in an apologetic tone. "Even if it means passing your test." Without hesitation, the boy raised his silver gun with two hands and fired, jerking backwards from the recoil.

The gunshot sounded extremely loud to Alex's ears. It took him a while to register what had just happened. The pain receptors from his left shoulder were clamoring for his attention and he saw blood trickling from his grazed shoulder. He calmly walked towards the panting, high-strung boy, took the Colt from those nerveless fingers and brought the butt of the gun down on top of Vash's cranium in one fluid movement.

"You little idiot! Are you trying to kill me!" roared Alex, more than a little pissed off. He had only just recovered from the numerous wounds he had received from the bandits and already this kid was trying to add more holes to his body.

Vash cowered and held his hands over his head, as if anticipating a second blow. "But… but you said you'd teach me if I shoot you!"

"I said 'fire your gun at me'! Did it ever occur to you that I wouldn't be able to teach you anything if you killed me? You could've shot to miss, you know!"

Vash shrank from his glowering face. "But I did shoot to miss! Honest!"

Alex digested this information and shuddered. "You were trying to miss me and you nearly blew my arm off? I don't want to think about what would have happened if you had aimed your gun at me instead."

"If I had done that, I'd probably miss you," said Vash miserably.

Alex burst out laughing, causing Vash to look at him as if he had just grown a second head. "Kiddo, you seriously need to improve that aim of yours."

"That's what I've been trying to do!" Vash complained, sounding slightly annoyed.

_Ah well, I guess I deserved that_. He sat down on the sand and opened his backpack, fishing around for something to bandage his wound. He settled for using one of his shirts. It would make a crude bandage at best but it was better than nothing.

Vash watched him tend his wound guiltily. "I'm sorry I shot you. I really didn't mean to."

"And I'm sorry I clubbed you on the head." Alex handed the Colt back to the boy. "Keep this safe now, you hear? No more shooting until I say so."

Vash's face lit up. "Does this mean…?"

"Yes, but I'm warning you, kiddo- my training regimen isn't conventional by any means. You'd feel as if you've been dragged through hell and back by the time I'm through with you."

"I don't mind," said Vash, still beaming. "I won't let you down."

Alex grinned at that. "I'm a man with a million double dollars on my head, kiddo. Make me proud and become an outlaw with an even greater bounty than mine one day."

"But if getting a large bounty on my head means I have to kill people…" said Vash. "Then I don't think I'd get any sort of bounty. At least, I hope not."

Alex thought about it for a while. "Yeah, you're right. I don't think you'll ever amount to much, bounty-wise."

_(End of fic)_

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**A/N:** Somehow, Alex turned out to be a more central character in this story than Vash. Yikes. I think I might have broken the unwritten rule that no OC should steal the limelight from the original anime/manga characters.

I hope that you have enjoyed reading this story. Share with me your thoughts and opinions about the fic and I shall be most grateful. I might consider writing a sequel if my muse decides to bother me again, but am making no promises yet. A big thank you to all of you who have taken the time to read and review this story.

**Responses to Reviewers of previous chapter:**

_Babblefest: _Glad you liked the story. I wasn't expecting to fool too many people with the whole Alex/Vash twist at the beginning because I thought I've given away too many hints in the summary. But apparently, it still worked :) Hope you liked the ending.

_ReadingWhiz89: _I don't think that Vash's 'second nature' could be learnt from anyone; most likely he was born with a darker side that would only be triggered by extreme provocation. But, you're right- I couldn't stop thinking about the Diablo episode when I wrote Alex's violent side, although it wasn't my intention to have him simulate Vash in that aspect. I hope the final chapter had answered your questions with regards to Alex's background. If you have any suggestions for a less cheesy name than 'The Avenger', I'm all ears. As for why Vash was targeted by the bandits, it was pure bad luck. It all started when four of the gang members decided to chase him in a jeep and rob him for amusement. When they attempted to take away his guns, he retaliated and seriously injured them. Then the whole gang ended up hunting Vash down in order to inflict their brand of retribution. I doubt that anyone on Gunsmoke would have recognized Vash for what he was (i.e. a freeborn Plant); so, no, it wasn't because Vash was a Plant that the bandits were after him.

_Lady Shadowcat: _Thank you so much for your kind feedback. I take it that you enjoyed watching Western movies? The Trigun anime initially does have that Western/Cowboy feel, so I try to keep true to it. Yes, the area where Alex and Vash differed greatly was their stances regarding killing (Oh dear, don't tell me I've unknowingly added a shadow of Wolfwood into Alex's character as well). It would have been OOC for Vash to watch people die without making any attempts to save them, even when those were the same people who were trying to kill him.


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